


Once Upon a Different Time

by LadyLondonderry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ella Enchanted, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/pseuds/LadyLondonderry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn's been gifted with a rather unfortunate blessing - he's been given the gift of obedience. He hates it.</p><p>Ella Enchanted AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon a Different Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allaboutzouis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allaboutzouis/gifts).



It’s traditional to host a naming ceremony four weeks past the birth of a new child. Members of the aristocracy and local dignitaries visit and bring presents and well wishes. They have an official dinner and blessing for the child after they are named, so they can be traditionally sent out into society, ready to someday take over their family’s estate.

This day, there is quite a crowd at the event, including even a fairy godfather – a rare event, these days – and the child is clearly the least excited one there. His little shock of black hair is standing up in all directions as he flip flops between whimpering and outright sobbing. The only time that he seems to entirely cheer up is when his sister, toddling around with a stuffed bear in her arms, approaches him and manages to land a smack on his mouth before she’s quickly carried away by a nanny. The child is quiet for a minute after that, seemingly in shock, but soon goes back to his disruptive routine.

-

“I name thee, Zayn Malik of the land of Bradford,” his father’s voice booms out as Zayn is held up before the people. Zayn surveys the crowd before him, all sitting down at the feasting table, and starts whimpering again, clearly on the verge of another breakdown. He needs a nap so badly and nobody is just letting him alone long enough for him to get one! He’s a baby, too young to care about what people call him. He cares about food and sleep and sometimes the people who hold and rock him.

He’s laid back into the fancy crib at the head of the table next to his parents, and immediately his eyes begin to droop. There’s about ten minutes where he begins to lull into a peaceful sleep, but then-

“Oh look at this handsome young man!”

Zayn is picked up again, roughly jostled from sleep, and he is _not_ happy about it.

“Oh Simon,” Zayn’s mother interjects politely. “He’s only just gotten to sleep, perhaps we should let him-“

“Nonsense!” Simon says jovially. His voice is very loud and very close to Zayn’s sensitive ears and his whimpers immediately turn into full blown sobs. He just wants to _sleep_ , why does no one want him to sleep?

“Oh you are a loud one,” Simon says with a frown. He attempts bouncing the baby in his arms, but Zayn is having none of it. He tries to sing a few bars of a lullaby but it’s hardly heard over Zayn’s wail. “Just shush, will you?” Simon groans, getting exasperated. Nothing he does can get Zayn to quiet down though, and much to Zayn’s displeasure he seems hell bent on holding him instead of simply putting him down so he can just get some rest.

“I know!” Simon says. “I hadn’t quite figured out what to bless you with, but this’ll do nicely! From this day forward, you will be blessed with obedience. Now stop crying, my child.”

Zayn stops crying.

He looks at Simon with as much reproach and hatred as a four week old baby possibly can. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows it’s wrong and it’s something that he’s not able to stop. He’s upset, but can do nothing about it.

Zayn’s parents look on in horror as Simon continues to coo happily at the now silent baby. What sort of blessing is obedience? They know better than to argue with him, for all that Simon can be a bit of a fruitcake he is also one of the more powerful fairy godparents in Britain, and it would do them poorly to get on his bad side.

-

Zayn realises that he’s different at a very young age. He notices that his sisters don’t jump to obey when their nanny tells them to “do your chores” or when the gardener tells them to “get out of the roses”. He notices that people give him weird looks when he gives away all of his toys after another child demands to play with them. His mother explains about the blessing, and Zayn, in tears, tells Doniya.

Doniya considers it her responsibility to protect Zayn. She makes sure to turn other people’s orders into requests and ensures that no one ever makes him do something he doesn’t want to do. He spends nights crying on her bed while she comforts him, saying that someday they can figure out how to fix this broken blessing.

-

Zayn’s father sees how Zayn is hurting, and he cares, oh he cares so much. One night he finds Simon and asks, begs for him to take away the blessing.

Simon is angry that anyone could think that his blessing is less than the best. Simon knows that any blessing he gives a child will be the best blessing they’ll ever receive. He doesn’t remove the blessing, and in spite, he whispers in the king’s ear what a fine general Sir Yaser would make.

Zayn’s father is drafted a month later.

-

Zayn is eleven when his mother, Lady Trisha, dies suddenly in the night. His three sisters and him are the ones standing in the front row at the funeral, weeping and holding onto one another’s shoulders with the desperation that only comes around with the death of a dearly loved one. Their father is off commanding in yet another far off war, as he often does, and is not able to be reached in time for the funeral. Since their father was drafted four years ago, they had seen him a few times a year and interactions became more distant and formal with each visit. It’s not that Sir Yaser doesn’t love his children, it’s just that every time he returns, he has been a little more beaten down by the war and they have grown up a little more, become less the children he knows and more the young adults someday to be noble members of the aristocracy.

Zayn, in place of his father, has to assume the role of head of the family. He says words through his tears about who their mother was to them, and he’s the one who closes the casket. He’s also the one who makes a run for it as soon as the ceremony ends, the pain becoming too much. He runs blindly through the cemetery until he can no longer see the great crowds of people, the pressure of too many faces peering at him in sympathy.

He trips over a smaller tombstone and sprawls out in the grass, muffling his tears with the now grass stained arms of his formal coat. It’s been raining recently and he’s muddy but he doesn’t think he’ll have the strength to get up any time soon.

“She was nice, your mother.”

Zayn’s breath hitches and he looks around, only to be faced with a familiar lad close to his own age with floppy curls and a suit nicer than his.

Zayn has seen Prince Harold from afar before, attending royal ceremonies or being paraded around parties by his parents. They’ve never spoken before.

“Mum always said she threw the best parties and was one of the kindest nobles,” Harold adds. He sits against a tree trunk near Zayn, clearly not too fussed about the mud.

Zayn nods his head miserably, sniffling and wiping snot on his sleeves.

“She’ll be missed,” Harold says.

“Thanks,” Zayn mumbles, and a beat too late adds, “Prince Harold.”

“It’s Harry,” the prince says. “Just Harry.” He gives Zayn a long look. “You look like her. Your eyes look quite nice.”

Zayn doesn’t quite know what to say to that. “Thanks, Prince Harry.”

“Call me Harry.”

“Harry,” Zayn replies instantly. He tries to keep it under his breath, but in the near silent cemetery it’s loud as a firecracker.

“What?” Harry asks in confusion.

“Nothing,” Zayn says hurriedly. “I need- I need to be getting back.”

He stands on wobbly legs and gives one last glance to Harry. “Goodbye,” he says, unsure whether or not to bow. He decides against it.

-

People like to gossip about nobles. They say Harry is an airhead, capable of little complex though. Zayn thinks he seemed quite nice. He doesn’t mention it though.

-

Zayn’s father remarries eventually; starts courting two years later and marries the year after, to a woman by the name of Lady Leanne. He speaks little to his new wife and less to his children. The woman is harsher than Lady Trisha ever was, and brings to the manor her own two girls, spoiled and catty.

They send Zayn’s sisters to finishing school. Lady Leanne insists they have missed out on a proper education by only having private tutors. Her own two girls stay home. They have already finished their proper education.

Zayn continues with the tutors. He doesn’t need finishing school, according to Leanne. Finishing School is for girls to become women. Zayn simply needs to learn geography.

-

Zayn spends much of his time in hiding away from his step sisters, Ellie and Nora. They’re selfish and mean and could care less about anyone beside themselves. He fears that they’ll find out about the blessing, but even more fears for his life that they will say something to him, make him do something, without even realising what they’ve said.

“Pass me the pastries,” Ellie demands one morning at breakfast. Zayn hasn’t even gotten one for his own plate yet but is forced to pass them along. Ellie and Nora gobble all of them and refuse to pass them back.

“Give me the horse,” Nora demands one afternoon. It’s Liam, Zayn’s favourite horse, and Zayn was just taking her out to pasture for a ride. He tries to resist – as he often does – but as always an ache and a buzzing fill his head and he has to hand over the reigns as his body is demanding him to. Nora tugs Liam away without another word and after she forces herself onto the poor horse for a ride through the woods on unmarked trails where she gets pebbles in her hooves and burs in his coat, Liam won’t let Zayn ride him for a week afterward.

The horrible thing doesn’t happen for two more years though.

The horrible thing happens one day when Zayn is in his own chambers, just having finished his tutoring session for the day. He always misses his mother, sometimes more intense than others, but coupled with a growing pang of sadness in his chest for how far away his sisters are too, he just feels the need to get away from everything and have a good cry.

He sits on his bed and leans down to slide out from under it the small jewellery box that once belonged to his mother. It’s not the large ornate one that held her day to day jewellery and that now sits on the dressing table of the Lady Leanne, no. This one is the small and precious heirloom, about the size of his fist and covered in designs supposedly etched into it by the gnomes. He opens it and runs his fingers over the precious few pieces inside. There sits two rings, one silver and one gold, given to him from Safaa’s and Waliyha’s own boxes, for him to keep safe until they return. Below those sits a pearl bracelet from Doniya that she gave to him on his tenth birthday. Below all of those, though, is the most precious thing that Zayn owns; a silver necklace with threads as thin as a spider’s web which once sat upon the shoulders of his mother. He cradles each of the items individually and lets the tears fall, just for this small amount of time before it is demanded that he be elsewhere once again.

There’s a single knock at the door before it’s roughly forced open and Ellie and Nora barge in. Zayn madly paws at his eyes with the ends of his sleeves, trying to hide his tears and feeling nothing but anger at these girls. “Get out,” he says in a choked growl, but they pay him no mind.

“No, shant,” Ellie says.

“Mummy says you’re wanted in the kitchens,” Nora says. “Ooh, what’s that?” she points to the box in Zayn’s hand that he’s frantically stuffed the jewellery back into.

“It’s nothing, I’ll go to the kitchens just get out of my room!”

“I want to see it,” Ellie says. “Give it here.”

Zayn keeps his hands at his sides until he feels like he’s about to vomit, only about ten seconds really, before having to give in and hand it to her. She snatches the box from him and shakes the contents out into her hands. The rings both fall through her fingers and go rolling onto the floor and under the bed. Zayn hopes they don’t see them.

“Ooh this is absolutely lovely!” Nora says, picking up the pearl bracelet. She slips it onto her wrist and it fits more snugly than it ought. “I want it, doesn’t it go so well with my dress?”

“It’s not yours, give it back!” Zayn shouts, and lunges at her. Nora lets out a squeak of fear and runs toward the door.

Ellie, ignoring them, is holding up the necklace. “This belonged to Lady Trisha, didn’t it? I remember seeing it on her. It’s rather lovely. I think I’ll keep it.” She turns to where Zayn is trying to grab Nora’s wrist to force the bracelet off of it. “Oh, stop it!” she shouts at him and Zayn freezes, completely. Nora slips out from the corner he had her pinned to and runs behind her sister.

It takes a moment but Zayn is able to collect himself and turn around again. Nora and Ellie are staring at him; Nora in fear and Ellie in something akin to delight. “Zayn,” she says slowly. “I demand you come over here.”

“Zayn feels something horrible bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He walks over slowly, trying to make it look like it’s something he’s choosing to do, not something he’s forced to do.

“Snatch that ring that rolled under the bed,” Ellie orders. Zayn’s face flames in embarrassment and shame as he gets down on his knees to snake a hand under the bed until he finds something cold and metal. He pulls out the silver ring – Waliyha’s – and comes back up with it.

“Hand it to Nora,” Ellie says. Zayn thinks he might actually be sick as he hands the ring over, dropping it on Nora’s open palm.

Ellie’s smile is sinister. “Don’t tell your father about this,” she instructs. She drops the now empty box back onto his bed and takes ahold of her sister’s hand. Between them they’re wearing three of the four pieces of jewellery from inside of it. “Come, Nora, I think we have some interesting things to plan.”

Nora, always the slightly slower one, doesn’t seem to quite get what her sister so clearly grasps, but excitedly follows her out of the room anyway.

Zayn feels like he can’t breathe. He waits until they’re down the hallway and slams his door closed. He can’t do this. He can’t be here with these already horrible girls now that they know his secret. He grabs a rucksack and fills it with whatever things he can think of – a change of clothes, a knife, a flask for water. He dives under the bed and retrieves the only piece of jewellery that they didn’t steal – Safaa’s ring – and slips it onto his finger.

He sneaks down to the kitchens and grabs a loaf of bread and a small block of cheese to add to the bag and runs for the stables. 

Liam is in the last stall and Zayn hands him a sugar cube, making sure that he’s not still upset with him about the riding incident. Of course he’s not, Liam’s a sweetheart. Zayn fills the last space in his bag with apples and climbs onto Liam’s back before they even leave the stables.

He can’t think of anyone to say goodbye to. The people he misses are the people not here, so there’s not really a point. The sun is setting already as they ride down the dirt road toward town.

-

Zayn forgot a blanket.

It’s cold and damp as night descends and while he’s made it to the city, he doesn’t have enough money to be spending it frivolously on inns and B&B’s. He’s aiming for settling in a nice grove on the outskirts of town for the night, so that he can find somewhere more permanent in the morning, and tonight he can find a nice place for Liam to graze.

He’s settled out in a grassy spot behind the blacksmith’s building, hoping that nobody will mind him staying there. Liam’s happy munching on weeds, because he’s sweet but not always the brightest of horse, and Zayn is considering making a bed out of his spare clothes. That’ll mean he doesn’t have anything nice to wear tomorrow in order to find a job, but there are sacrifices to be made. He can’t go back home.

“That’s an odd place to choose to sleep,” a voice from behind him says and Zayn whirls around. It’s dark but the light from a window in the blacksmith’s house illuminates the area well enough that Zayn can make out curls and fancy clothes.

“Harry?” Zayn asks, even now that command to _call me Harry_ tugging at the back of his mind.

“Lady Trisha’s son,” Harry greets, walking forward holding out a hand to shake. “And what are you doing out here? An odd place for a midnight stroll.”

Zayn doesn’t feel the need to point out that it’s not even nine at night. “I’m sleeping here,” he says. He considers keeping his tone polite, this is the prince after all, but he’s had a bit of a hard day and well, Harry didn’t always seem like the type to care about formalities.

“Why?” asks Harry, looking genuinely puzzled. He walks up to Liam and pets his flank. Liam takes no notice.

“Not going to go home,” Zayn says, trying to avoid the question. “This felt like a good spot. The trees make it drier.”

Harry looks confused and maybe a bit pitying. “How’s your sisters?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Wouldn’t know,” Zayn shrugs. Why does the prince even remember so much? They’re not on the highest level of aristocracy, it won’t further his needs with the crown. “They haven’t written in a while, exams and all that.”

“They’re at school?”

“Finishing school, yeah,” Zayn says. “Won’t be home for another month or so.”

“Will you be home then?” Harry asks.

“Why do you care?” Zayn snaps. He hasn’t seen the prince since his mother’s funeral.

Harry shrugs though, unbothered by Zayn’s comment. “It’s not a normal place to find someone, out in a sheep field. I don’t think you’ll find it all that comfortable.”

“Well I don’t know where I’m going to be in a month,” Zayn snarls. “I don’t even know where I’m going to be tomorrow morning. I can’t go home and I want to fight someone whom I may never even be able to find, so I’m having a bit of a hard night and I’d prefer to be left in peace, thank you very much.” He sits down with a thud and lays against a tree, arms crossed.

Harry doesn’t leave him alone. “I’m at the inn over that way,” he motions back toward the road.

“Good for you,” Zayn practically growls.

“Come join me,” Harry says.

Zayn wants to puke. He’s already standing up. He’s dealt with the stupid fucking _blessing_ for years but out here, outside the walls of his house with the only ones who know so far away from protecting him, he’s realising just how exposed he is. Already, he’s standing up to follow Harry. “Fine,” he grits out, “but I do it under duress.”

“You don’t like me much, do you?” Harry asks, taking Liam’s lead gently and bringing him along as they walk toward the road.

“I don’t like anyone much at the moment,” Zayn answers truthfully.

They walk mostly in silence, and when they get to the inn Harry leaves Liam in an outdoor stable. Zayn gives him another sugar cube from his pocket which Liam accepts happily.

They walk inside and up the stairs, nobody giving them a second glance. Harry opens a door about halfway down the hallway to find a modest accommodation. There’s two beds, which make the room look slightly cramped, and there’s already someone sitting on one of them.

“That’s Louis,” Harry says, pointing to the boy on the far bed. The boy is short, dressed in a bright green outfit and pointy hat. He’s got a scowl on his face.

“You brought home another stray?” Louis asks, the scowl evident in his voice.

“I’m not a _stray_ ,” Zayn spits back.

“This is Zayn!” Harry says happily. “Louis, Zayn. Zayn, Louis. Louis here was also attempting to sleep under some bushes.”

“It was a tree,” Zayn mutters.

“I was doing a fine job of it too,” Louis mutters.

“So anyway!” Harry continues. He sits down on the bed across from Louis’s. “Zayn, tell us about your story! What can we do to help?”

“Idon’twanttopleasetellmenotto,” Zayn rushes out in a panic. He can feel that horrible bubbling in his stomach again, but please oh _please_ don’t make him spill everything to these strangers. At this point to a certain extent he doesn’t feel like he has much left to lose, he just wants some dignity.

Harry and Louis stare at him for a moment in surprise and Zayn tries desperately to hold it in just a second longer, but then Louis shouts, “Don’t tell us anything!”

It’s a war inside of him now as his body takes a minute to catch up to the new command. He sags onto the bed, head in his hands. He doesn’t say anything now and he’s not sure that he can with what Louis just said. He feels like crying. This day is too much.

Harry and Louis are still staring at him. Harry’s features are etched with confusion (which may be a normal look for him at this point, Zayn isn’t sure), and Louis’s with… pity? Damn, that’s got to be another person on the list that knows.

“Are you… okay?” Harry asks tentatively.

Zayn opens his mouth but no words come out. Fuck. He looks to Louis, who takes a minute to catch on.

“Um… Tell us whatever you want to tell us?” He tries, a little hopelessly. A goddamn blessing shouldn’t be this literal.

“’M fine,” Zayn manages to get out. He collapses onto the bed next to Harry, head in his hands. He’s exhausted. “Not to be rude or anything, but would you mind if I just… slept? It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry rushes. “Louis’s already claimed that bed, he called dibs so I don’t think I’m allowed to share” (Louis makes an exasperated look, Zayn notes, but doesn’t argue). “Want to split this one with me?”

Zayn nods. He’s never shared a bed before in his life, and now he’s sharing one with the prince? He thinks he should be doing some sort of formality, like offering to take the floor, but Harry for some reason has been nice enough to offer him a room, so he thinks he can get away with sleeping in a bed too.

“I’ll take this side,” Harry says, laying down and leaving Zayn the part closer to the wall, which he takes gratefully. Even though the lamp is still burning in his room, his eyes are so heavy. He twines his fingers around Safaa’s ring and thinks of his sisters as he drifts off to sleep. Maybe he can find them again sometime, if he ever gets home again…

-

“Of course he’s under a curse, what did you think that was yesterday?”

“Well I thought maybe he just didn’t want to be impolite. It’s rude not to answer a question when royalty asks you.”

“For someone supposedly trained by the highest tutors in the land, you can be a little dense sometime, Prince.”

“Please don’t remind me. I’m trying to stay away from that title for as long as possible. Pudding?”

“It’s banana, isn’t it? You have horrible taste in pudding. I’m sticking to toast.”

Zayn wakes up slowly, taking in the conversation happening on the other side of the room. He’s dimly aware he was being discussed, but he’s too out of it to really care.

“Oh look, Noble Boy is waking up,” he hears Louis say through a mouthful of food. Zayn groans. He’s never been a morning person.

“We had room service sent up,” Harry says, too upbeat for whatever time in the morning it is. “I saved you pudding!”

“He didn’t actually,” Louis interjects. “I just didn’t want to eat it because it’s disgusting. You don’t have to either if you don’t like it.”

Zayn sits up and looks over at them. They’re sitting at the small table in the corner of the room with plates piled high with breakfast food. Harry has a large bowl of yellow pudding he’s working his way through.

“That looks horrible,” Zayn croaks out, his voice still hoarse with sleep.

Harry shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

“So, curse boy,” Louis says, eliciting a glare from Harry. “What are you running from?”

“I’m not _cursed_ ,” Zayn argues. “It’s just a really bad blessing, okay? And I’m not running from anything.”

“It’s not a blessing if it can get you killed,” Louis says, like he’s reciting a saying from primary school. “Plus, you’re definitely running from something. Harry says you’re from a very nice house with very nice sisters and you were trying to sleep in a field last night.”

Zayn looks at Harry, who blushes. “I’m sorry, that was probably incredible rude of me,” he starts but Zayn waves him off.

“Whatever, makes sense you’d want to gossip about the weird kid. But I’m not running from anything. I’m looking for someone.”

“Who?” Harry and Louis ask at once.

“My fairy godfather. I need him to take this dumb curse off of me.”

“Ha!” Louis pipes up. “So you admit it’s a curse!”

“ _It’s not a blessing if it can get you killed_ ,” Zayn mimics right back at him. Louis barks out a surprised laugh.

“Who is he?” Harry asks. “Your godfather, I mean.”

“Ever heard of Simon Cowell?” Zayn asks. Louis shakes his head but Harry nods.

“I’ve seen him at a couple naming ceremonies,” Harry says. “That’s your fairy godfather? He seems a bit… Temperamental.”

“Well I don’t care if he tries to fight me, I don’t want to keep living with this looming over my head,” Zayn says.

Louis nods gravely. “I know what you mean. Sometimes the situation you’re in just needs a new start.”

“Says the boy I found in a field two days ago,” Harry says.

Ah yes, Harry’s penchant for picking up people in fields. “Why were you in a field?” Zayn asks.

Louis shrugs. “I don’t sing.”

“Sing?”

Louis lifts up his hat far enough to reveal two pointy ears. “They expect elves in this land to do one of two things; bake cookies or sing. I can’t bake and I won’t sing.”

“So he ran away,” Harry concludes. “Didn’t even have a pack like you did.”

“Did so,” Louis mumbles. “Just got it stolen by the end of the first day.”

“But that doesn’t matter now!” Harry says excitedly. “Because now it’s the three of us! We can go adventuring together!”

“Hold up, Harry,” Zayn interjects. “No offense, but you are the current crown prince. I’m not sure why you’re just wandering around the countryside looking for strays instead of governing your people or something.”

Harry’s face falls. “I just wanted a few days off, that’s all,” he says.

Louis looks like he wants to say something, but decides against it. The all sit in silence for a moment.

“So, what are we going to do then?” Zayn asks. “Since you want to go adventuring and all.”

“Well, it’s like a quest, isn’t it?” Harry says, back to his excited nature again. “You need to find your fairy godfather, and Louis needs a place to work that doesn’t involve singing. Perfect!”

Louis shrugs nonchalantly. “Nowhere is actually going to hire an elf that doesn’t sing. I’m just waiting until Harry gets bored of me so I can go back to sleeping in fields.”

“Okay, and we don’t actually know where Simon is?” Zayn objects. “It’s going to be difficult to go looking for him with no idea where he could be.”

Harry looks at him blankly. “I know where he is,” he says as if everyone should know. “He lives at the end of the royal gardens with the rest of the fairies, I thought everybody knew that?”

Louis and Zayn both give Harry a look that says that no, this is definitely not a thing that everybody knows.

“Oh… Well, he does!” Harry says proudly. “We can go today! But only once we finish this banana pudding. This is too good to go to waste.”

-

They have to leave Liam in the stable, because it wouldn’t be practical with one of them riding and two walking. Zayn leaves Liam plenty of apples as an apology.

Harry asks Zayn a lot of questions about his family, only once mentioning the new step sisters. Louis asks him cryptic questions about his blessing. Zayn thinks maybe he’s trying to figure out a way to break the curse, but Zayn knows by now there are no loop holes. Louis tries the whole “I command you only to do what you want to do,” but it’s immediately overridden when he then tells Zayn to “flick yourself on the nose”.

The building the fairies live in is lovely, like a mansion almost. There are a number of well-tended to gardens outside and a small fountain, the shrubs all cut in the shape of fairies and animals. They walk up to the big front doors and Harry bravely uses the knocker without any hesitation.

The door opens and for a minute Zayn thinks they’re greeted by silence. But then, “Down here! Hey!”

They look down to see a fairy only about a foot tall with large shimmering wings and bright blond hair. Fairies are usually about as large as their powers, so this is probably only a trickster fairy, able to do enough magic for tricks, but not for lifelong blessings.

“Hey!” The fairy flies up to them. He’s got blue eyes and an odd accent. “What’s up? Who are you here for?”

“We’re, um, we’re looking for Simon?” Harry says. He’s staring at the fairy’s wings in awe, and for a minute Zayn feels a pang of jealousy. What? Why would he feel that? That’s weird.

“Oh god,” the fairy groans. “Listen, I don’t know what he’s told you this time, but if he owes you money, he’s not home. And if he told you he’s trying to form a band, don’t listen to him it’s not worth it.”

“I, um, it’s rather important,” Harry tries to argue.

“Yeah?” The fairy asks. What kind of important? Like you sold your firstborn to him kind of important?”

“Like I want him to un-bless me kind of important?” Zayn speaks up.

The fairy turns toward him, floating to about a foot in front of his face. “Damn, what kind of blessing are we talking here? Did he do that horrible golden touch thing again? I told him it was a mistake-“

“Worse,” Zayn cuts in (although he’s not sure what golden touch thing the fairy is talking about). “Look, can we just, like, see him?”

The fairy thinks for a minute. He hovers up and down with his wings beating like a hummingbird. “Fine,” he says eventually, “But you have to do me a favour.”

“What’s that?” Harry asks. Somehow, Zayn isn’t surprised that Harry is happy to help this fairy out.

“I need my back scratched, just, like, right there,” The fairy turns around and points to a spot between his shoulder blades. “I can’t reach it with these huge ass wings! And nobody will help me here, they just keep laughing at me!”

Harry’s trying not to laugh as well, it’s pretty obvious. But he does as the fairy asks, scratching his back with a hand as big as the fairy’s whole torso.

After a moment the fairy sighs in contentment. “Thanks mate, I’ve been having to deal with that for a century. Fairies can be so rude sometimes.” He opens the door all the way then. “I’m Niall, by the way. Just follow me and I’ll lead you to his section of the house.”

They follow as Niall leads them down corridors that vary in size and colour, some looking fancy and new and others looking more like rabbit holes. Zayn is certain that this house is way bigger on the inside.

“Alright,” Niall finally stops. “This is his door. I’m not going in there too though, you couldn’t pay me.” He lands on Louis’s shoulder, who gives a slightly disgruntled look but only puts up a hand to steady him.

“Well,” Harry turns to Zayn. “Now or never. Want to make it now?”

Zayn nods. He had assumed it would take weeks if not months to find Simon, this was absurdly fast. He steps up and gives three swift knocks to the fancy door, which doesn’t match at all with the dirt hallway.

“Come in,” a voice inside calls. Zayn’s palms are sweaty when he opens the door, but Harry grasps one of his hands and follows him into the room, which makes him feel a little better.

Inside is fairly similar to a palace, Zayn thinks, with the intricate detailing on the furniture and fancy paintings on all the walls. They’ve entered a brightly lit sitting room, in the middle of which sits a man with short, greying hair and stubble. Zayn hasn’t actually seen Simon since he was about a month old, but this looks sort of like he’s always imagined Simon to look like.

“Who are you?” Simon asks.

“I’m Zayn,” Zayn says.

“Prince Harold,” Harry says. The name feels quite foreign to Zayn’s ears, he didn’t realise anyone actually called him that.

“Zayn, Zayn…” Simon seems to ponder the name. “Are you Zayn Malik? Yaser’s son?”

Zayn nods.

“He wanted me to remove my blessing from you, the ungrateful bastard,” Simon tells him. Zayn gulps.

“Actually, sir, I’d sort of…”

Simon is looking at him with a piercing gaze and Zayn trails off. “You’re asking for the exact same thing, aren’t you?” Simon says lowly, a dangerous look in his eye.

Zayn looks to Harry helplessly. He’s not sure why, exactly, since this has nothing to do with Harry. Harry was just nice enough to lend him a room, for whatever odd reason. But Harry is holding his hand and, well, Zayn feels rather safer for it.

Harry clears his throat and tries, though. “It’s not that he’s not terribly grateful,” he tells Simon. “It’s just that it’s a gift that has served him quite well as a child, but now it’s time to maybe try out a gift that’s more suited to, well, his interests. You know? Like- boating? Maybe we could make him a good boater?”

Zayn hasn’t been on a boat in his life. But he nods enthusiastically along to what Harry is saying.

“You don’t appreciate the blessing, is what you’re telling me,” Simon says, looking at Zayn with a lingering gaze. Zayn gulps. “But here’s the thing, little Malik. What you are is ungrateful. You were ungrateful at the naming ceremony when I met you, and you’re ungrateful now.” He points to Harry right next to him. “You’ve managed to get the prince here wrapped around your finger, something that I’ve been working to do all my life, and yet here you are, utterly oblivious to how much he’s fallen for you.”

Zayn is really confused. This conversation is going in a weird direction. He glances over at Harry, whose cheeks are quite pink. He wonders if Harry has some sort of bloodflow problem, his cheeks are pink quite a bit.

“I don’t like your attitude, Malik, and I don’t like his future spot on the throne,” Simon continues. “So I’m just going to make this all quite a bit easier on myself, how does that sound? He points to Zayn’s rucksack, hanging from his shoulders. “I can see you’ve got a knife in there. Take it. Kill the prince.”

Zayn is shaking now. No! How could this have gone so wrong? He looks to Harry helplessly, but as he does Simon makes a sort of movement and Harry claps a hand over his mouth as if in shock. He paws at his lips but, to both their horror, he doesn’t seem to be able to open his mouth. Zayn’s insides feel like they’re on fire. He can’t kill the prince! That’s like a million times worse than killing a regular person! But more than that – it’s Harry! Harry, who comforted him in his weird way at his mother’s passing, and who offered him a place to stay when he was going to sleep on the damp grass and cold ground. Harry, with the soft eyes and large heart.

He feels himself almost choking and his resistance slipping as he reaches inside his bag for the knife. Why isn’t Harry running? Dear God it takes two to commit a murder! Tears start streaming down Zayn’s face when the metal comes into view but he’s trying as hard as he can not to move it.

Something snaps.

It’s taken almost seventeen years, but something snaps. It feels like Zayn’s a rubber band who’s been pulled and pulled and pulled, and has finally been taken one step too far, snapping and ricocheting off in an unforeseen direction. In his effort to aim the knife anywhere but at Harry, it veers off to the side, his arm movements no longer stifled by the curse.

He swings the knife straight into Simon’s chest.

Fairies aren’t good with silver. Really, one could say that silver is their greatest weakness. It could be that this is part of what weakened the curse. Who’s to say? Whatever the reason, the knife wound straight through where Simon’s heart should be is deep, and he falls to his knees, a look of shock on his face.

There’s a look of shock on Zayn’s face too. He lets go of the knife and stumbles backward, only to be caught by Harry.

“Come on,” Harry says softly, “We should get out of here.”

He leads Zayn gently by the wrist out into the hallway. Louis and Niall take a look at Zayn’s shaking form and Harry’s gentle arms around him and stay silent. Niall leads them out into the sunlight outside.

Once out of the house, Zayn’s head begins to clear a little. He stops and turns to Harry.

“I was going to kill you,” he says.

“I mean, sort of,” Harry says.

“Why the fuck didn’t you run?” Zayn asks.

Harry shrugs. “I didn’t think you actually would, you know? You’re better than that.”

“And how would you know?” Zayn asks, adrenaline building from what he’s just experienced and making his voice squeaky.

“Because he’s been in love with ya for years, you dense boy!” Louis shouts over from where he and Niall are standing. Niall is the same size as Louis now, oddly enough.

“You’ve what?” Zayn turns to Harry.

Harry shrugs again.

“Thought it was obvious,” he concedes.

“I haven’t seen you in years!” Zayn says exasperatedly. “How on earth would that be obvious?”

“I sent you letters?” Harry says tentatively. “I thought you just weren’t returning the sentiment, but I was sure you got them. None of them ever returned as undelivered.”

Zayn groans. He’s sure his step mother has something to do with this. “Listen, this is all news to me. But I’d love to hear more about this sometime. Sometime when I’m not about to go insane.”

Harry nods. “Yes please!” he takes Zayn’s hand again and Zayn finds that he doesn’t want to let go.

“My parents were insisting I get over you and move on,” Harry says. “They were going to hold a ball for me to choose someone. It was going to be horrible.”

“Did you run away?” Zayn asks curiously.

Harry grins. “Maybe. Didn’t we all?”

“Yeah we did!” Louis calls. “Now can we get a move on? I don’t like standing in front of the place where I think we just committed murder!”

-

It turns out that with the death of Simon, all of his so called “blessings” (or outright malicious curses) come unravelled.

The first sign of this, as they soon learn, is Niall returning to his actual size. Niall, as it turns out, is heir to the fairy throne of Ireland. He’s been missing for several months. He sends them all large cases of Guinness as thanks once he regains the throne.

The second sign is the boy standing in the stable when they get back. He says his name is Liam. He likes apples. Apparently he’s a cart boy who once got mud splashed on Simon’s shoes.

The first thing Zayn does when he gets home is walk up to Ellie and Nora and all but rip the jewellery from their necks and wrists and fingers. He’s smug about it, but even more smug when his father returns from the war and realises what sort of a woman Leanne really is.

Harry courts Zayn, saying that he feels left out that he didn’t get true love’s first kiss from Zayn in order to break the curse. Zayn gives him a first kiss a few months later in what he thought was an abandoned orchard. The kiss ends abruptly when catcalls start from behind a bush where Louis and Liam are hiding. Niall sends another case of Guinness the next day to congratulate them as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me at [LondonFoginaCup](londonfoginacup.tumblr.com) on tumblr!  
> And if you're so inclined, I made a pretty little [fic post here!](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com/post/159216545069/once-upon-a-different-time)


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